Everything was white, with only a few shades of brown. Heaven? Of course not, it’s far from it. A small white room, with nothing more than a small opened window and a large painting covering half of the wall opposite said window, in a tall white tower. The tower distantly resembled one in a certain fairy tale involving an insanely long haired princess. Everything seemed almost stop motion, as if time was crawling like a turtle rather than flying like an arrow. It’s quiet, almost mute, the only noise being my thoughts. Four women, including myself were present. I was in my earlier stages of a teenager and they were young, around their early thirties. I was standing in the middle of the room next to one of the women. I’ve never seen her before –I’ve never seen anyone in the room before- but I knew she was my mother. We were talking in a muted fashion. We were talking to each other yet I didn’t hear any words.

Somewhere in our ‘conversation’ I looked up to my right to see the painting. I don’t remember what painting it was, I was too busy looking at the woman hanging beside it on the wall. ‘She’s my grandmother’, my thoughts informed me. My mother was talking to her while I just stared. I wasn’t scared, or shocked, not concerned, I wasn’t even thinking of anything. I just looked at her. Maybe I was just a tad bit curious. I blinked and when I opened my eyes all I saw was white. My mind was slowly registering my position and surroundings. I was upside down. I looked up to see the small window of the tower. Oh. I was hanging upside down outside of the tower from the window. But my feet weren’t the ones keeping me from falling, nor were there any ropes. It was like I was just hanging there with nothing supporting me. Wait, it wasn’t my body. It was my great grandmother’s body. I was looking through her eyes.

Nothing came after that, the end, fin, not to be continued.

I don’t remember when I woke up, how I felt, or what I thought of. I remember that I definitely was not scared, angry, sad, nor happy. Maybe a little confused, I’m not sure. When I think of it, I don’t know why we were in a tower and why everything was white. What the painting was, why my great grandmother was the only one outside of the tower. Was it a symbol? Was it because she’s the only one who isn’t around anymore? The ‘world’ itself was quite weird, what with everything being white and all, as if almost everything in it were bleached.

End –Ch. 3

AGH!! This is so late!! DX I’m very sorry guys, and it’s really short too.. ;A; Anyway, this is the third chapter of Fragments of Dreams and the last one FOR NOW. I haven’t had any interesting dreams (nor can I remember any) so this story will be in a hiatus until I can remember an interesting enough dream or if I dream of something proper (I mean this in more than one meaning)… 😛 So, yeah, sorry.. T__T Thanks 🙂

I swear that something is watching me, waiting for the right time to jump out and scare me. It was dark, dusk, the sky cloudy with a smoky red to blue colour. The things around me are hard to see, their colour darker than usual. We’re at my old high school’s parking lot, near the back of the hall, my two younger brothers (J and R) and I. We were searching, playing a game of detectives –mystery-, I’m not quite sure. We walked further behind the school. I felt wary all the time, it felt like someone –something- was going to jump me.

The scene changed. We’re home, on the front terrace of the first floor. It’s already dark, and there were two single beds. Isn’t that dumb, placing two beds where people pass all the time with only a 0.5×1 metre carving as a ‘wall’ and nothing else to stop the rest of the world from looking. Absurd. But here I am with my brother, J, playing around with legos.

Now I’m in my room, or our room, since only J that doesn’t sleep in the same room as the rest of us. I’m beside R’s bed, the door at my right. My brother wants me to ‘pat-pat’ him, as he likes to call it (it means stay with him ‘till he sleeps, more or less). I had my guard down. First mistake. He was lying on the side near the wall and I lay beside him. Stupid! I tuck myself under the blanket and relax, my hands behind my head. That was it.

I hear rapid footsteps, so fast they were not human. I freeze. I couldn’t see it yet, but it’s coming for me from the direction of the door. It’s here, I can feel it, I hear it, it’s coming! In a flash of red, it was right in front of me and it grabbed my throat. I screamed. The thing was short, height almost to my hips, dressed in blood red, its grey beard and moustache messy, eyes wild, fierce, intent to kill. I tried to claw off his hands, failing miserably.

Eyes wide open, heart beating fast, my breath not quite slow either. It was still dark… A dwarf. My attacker was a red, angry, intent-on-killing dwarf. And my scream sounded annoyingly close to the obnoxious sound of a ringing alarm clock. It could have been to wake me up, a kind of sign, maybe. My thoughts were a total mess. ‘That was scary’, ‘that was weird’, ‘what on earth was that’, ‘what did it mean’, ‘why did I dream that’, ‘that was dumb’, all sorts of things rushed in and out of my head in a time span of five seconds. I calmed down slightly. I can’t go back to sleep now, not alone…

It’s not dark anymore, the sun shining bright. I told my mother of my ‘nightmare’. I think back on it. A dwarf, how silly. I don’t remember watching nor reading anything with dwarfs in it to have that kind of nightmare. Heck, I didn’t even watch a horror movie. My scream was weird too. Why a flipping alarm clock?

But I can’t help to still feel scared at times. It wasn’t the dwarf; it was the act of being watched and having something jump in front of my face that scared the crap out of me. It’s stupid. Absurd. Downright laughable. Irrational even. I know that, but I can’t help it.

Irrational fear is irrational fear after all.

End –Ch. 2

– So, I decided to kick my but and finish this. If there are any typo/grammar errors or if you think I should change somethings, please tell me. I’m not a writer, but I like writing/making stories. 🙂

By the way, if it wasn’t obvious this series are recounts of dreams I’ve had (and remembered + is interesting enough). And they probably say a lot about me, but whatever I guess.. I’ll stop rambling now. Thanks 🙂

It was a weird thing. I was a boy, with jet black hair and dark plain clothing, just standing and staring. It was peculiar. That small window and part of the corner it was attached to. The whole room, a basement, was lighted as if it were day and wasn’t a basement. It was empty, and very, very large. The corner, it was black, like there was a shadow. A strange light seeped through the small window, it was a light purple, giving a mystic feel. How strange. I went into the shadow in the corner and looked up into that window. There is nothing but the same purple light. How odd. I turned away and jogged upstairs.

I’m outside, right at the side of a tall house. It was day. In front of me were more stairs, leading to some sort of terrace-path way. I look back. There were no traces of where I came out of. I think nothing of it and went up the stairs. The ‘path way’ led to the back of the house. I think. The cream paint, three-story, and terrace reminds me of my own house. No, this is my home. With quite some differences that is. I look down over the terrace. There they are, the neighbouring house and, behind that, the mossy path way to the small river. I smile. There is a door to my left. Of course, it wouldn’t be able to be on my right. I walk in, to a room. The room resembled the ones that the tourists sleep in in my house –it is a homestay, or some sort of hotel/home if you don’t know. There’s another terrace at the front, outside of the room. I step out and look to my right. There were two more similar rooms. I walk to the third room.

It looked like the room my grandmother uses when she visits us. It looked just like when I was ten. The boxes of toys stacked on top of each other and a wooden chair, outside of the room, a wooden double door standing between them. I opened the door and went in. On my left there was a single window. A body-length mirror, leaning on the wall in front of me, was beside said window. The mirror, or should I say a tall piece of reflecting glass, was a plain rectangle shape with no frame. In the center of that wall was a one and a half meter window, divided into three vertical ones. Beside it, in the corner, was a plain single bed with only a couple of plain pillows, all from bed to sheet and pillows were a light colour. The wall beside that was empty. After looking around, I step out of the room again. I look to my right, past the boxes of toys, and instead of a stairway going down, it went up. I walked and went up the stairs.

The second floor. Not that much different than the first, minus that one room I just got out of. Nothing special here. I walk across the front terrace, past two rooms, to the stairs. I face the stairway and stop. I look around, sensing something. Someone’s coming to chase me, I can feel it. I stare at the stairway down. Someone’s coming from that direction. No, there’s more than one. What should I do? I look at the stairway beside it, it goes up, and decide to run for it. I run up the stairs to the next floor.

This should be the third floor, I’m back at the second floor?! What’s going on! But it feels different, it looks different. There is something different here than before, but I can’t really place it. I can hear them, they’re coming! No time to stand around. I ran up the stairs again. Again. Again, again and again. What is going on here, it’s endless! Where’s the third floor? I don’t know why, but I know I’ll be able to escape there. Up, up, up. Not yet. When will I get there?

At last! The end! I’m on the third floor! I freeze for a fracture of a second. Right in front of me wooden benches and tables used in schools were on top of each other, stacked into a messy tall pile, blocking my way to freedom. They’re close, no time to think. I climb the pile. Halfway up, I couldn’t move. I look back behind my shoulder. One of them caught my ankle. He pulled, and I fell on my back. I look up, two men in suits, they look normal, but I know they’re not. The one wo pulled me down was scowling, his expression saying ‘now stay still and let us bring you back’, while the other was smirking wide enough to split his face, ‘there’s nowhere else to run’, cocky clearly written all over his face. Scowling, I got up. No way am I going back with them. I know they are bad. Smirk-face stepped closer and tried to grab me. I slapped his hand and kicked him away, turned back, and climbed over the pile of benches and tables before the scowling guy could catch me again. I jumped off the terrace without hesitation.

It’s too late for them now, they wont be able to catch me, that was their last chance. I spread my arms. I can see other small houses and a light forest only a few hundred meters from me. I close my eyes and open them. I have wings, jet black wings, and I’m flying. They’re crow wings. That’s new. I beat my wings and fly toward the forest.

I’m over the forest, on top of a shallow clearing and slowly glide down. Reaching the ground, my wings gone, I start walking. I’m on a road fit for only one car to go through, coconut trees and rice paddies on each side of the road, with patches of other kinds of trees here and there. Kind of like a road in Bali that I’ve been to. As I kept walking, the forest got thicker and darker, but not at all scary.

I open my eyes. I’m in my room. I think, and remember what just happened. A dream. ‘Isn’t that interesting, a story of a boy with crow’s wings’.